


this house is falling apart

by bbyfruit



Series: skam fic week! [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Camping, M/M, SKAM Fic Week, isak is dramatic as hell, theyre all in college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbyfruit/pseuds/bbyfruit
Summary: Pros of living with your best friends: they do cool shit with you.Cons of living with your best friends: sometimes their definition of cool shit is forcing you to go camping and share a sleeping bag with a stranger.





	this house is falling apart

**Author's Note:**

> title from anna sun by walk the moon it's funny i promise
> 
> this was inspired by this one time i was at summer camp and some kid slept in an eno hammock and then it rained and he almost drowned in his sleep... glad u made it bro

Isak is going to kill his roommates. It’s a sure fact at this point -- just a matter of when. And how. 

He wakes up to Magnus poking at his foot where it’s sticking out of his blanket.

“Get up, Issy,” Jonas sings, right beside his ear.

He can’t decide whether to kick Magnus or slam the pillow into Jonas’s head, but in the end, he realizes that he doesn’t have the energy to do either. 

“You die first,” Isak says into his pillow. 

“What?” Magnus squeaks. He spins to look at Jonas, alarmed. 

Jonas waves an arm dismissively. “He threatens people when he first wakes up. You’ll get used to it. Get up.”

“No.”

“Magnus, grab him.”

There are hands on either one of his ankles and then Jonas is scooping his arms under Isak’s shoulders and they’re  _ pulling  _ him out of his fucking bed, and, yes, they’re both dead men walking right now. 

Magnus drops him on the floor.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Isak says flatly. “Magnus dies first.”

* * *

 

Jonas drives for an indeterminate amount of time. Isak drifts in and out of sleep in the backseat, his eyes floating open only to see more of the last green of summer, and he has no idea where they are or where they’re going but he’s given up at this point.

“Isak,” Magnus says at one point, “you’re going to share with Even.”

“Share what? And who the fuck is Even?” Isak asks unhappily, pulling his hoodie up over his face.

He catches Jonas’s eye in the mirror. “Mahdi’s new roommate, remember?” Jonas offers. “I told you about him.”

It doesn’t slip past Isak that they’re intentionally not answering is question about exactly  _ what  _ he’s supposed to be sharing with this guy. 

Whatever. He goes back to sleep.

* * *

 

Okay, so, he loves Eva to death, but her voice  _ always  _ wakes him up, even if it’s from a distance -- like, for example, if he’s sleeping in the backseat of his best friend’s car at an unknown location and she’s outside.

Isak pulls the door open and slides out, landing in what appears to be some sort of clearing. They’re parked in a tiny area, a red van right next to Jonas’s car and some other car on the other side, and people are bustling around, setting up what looks like… tents.

They’re setting up motherfucking tents.

He can’t even see Jonas, but he calls his name anyways, and Jonas swings around the corner of the van with Mahdi right behind him, carrying wood.

“Oh, he’s awake,” Mahdi jokes, smiling brightly at Isak.

Isak barely even notices. He’s too busy glaring at Jonas. “Are you fucking kidding me?  _ Camping _ ?”

“Look,” Jonas says, looking like the outdoorsy, weed-smoking, tree-hugging, hipster fuck that Isak always knew he was. This is the proof he was looking for. “You’re going to love camping, okay.”

“I will  _ not _ love camping,” Isak says. Crossing both arms over his chest, he follows Jonas to into the center of the fucking campsite and watches while Jonas and Mahdi drop pieces of wood into a pile.

He only manages to cram in a few more seconds of dramatic glaring before he’s blindsided by the hurricane that is Eva Kviig Mohn.

“Isak, baby,” she declares, wrapping both arms around him, her hair dusting against his chin, “you literally look like shit. Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Eva links her arm with his. It’s one of his favorite things about Eva, actually, though he’d never admit it -- she never indulges his attitudes. Take right now, for instance. Isak digs in his heels and tells her that he’ll sleep in the van, because  _ anything  _ is better than camping, but she drags him to the tents anyways, pointing happily.

“This is Jonas and I’s tent,” she says, kind of proudly. “And then the big one is where Noora, Sana, Vilde, and Chris are sleeping.” She might call it big, but the thing is only barely wider than the one for Jonas and Eva, which is  _ tiny _ . “Magnus and Mahdi are staying here,” Eva continues, gesturing to a tent that’s quite obviously older than the rest of them. “And then the one for you and Even.”

Isak stops in his tracks. Not only do they expect him to sleep in a tent with a stranger, but the tent is literally falling apart, patched up in places and miniscule, barely big enough for one person, and Isak is opening his mouth to tell Eva no  _ fucking way  _ when he sees Even duck through the entryway of the tent.

Long legs in black jeans and blonde hair flopping down over a bandana and sunglasses pulling down the collar of his shirt and he’s Isak’s  _ type _ , a type he didn’t know he had until this very fucking second, because suddenly there’s an incredibly fucking hot boy standing in front of Isak and scanning him up and down and Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck his friends.

Isak’s entirely too aware of his appearance. He had refused to change out of the clothes that he’s slept in last night in a small act of rebellion, and then he’d slept in the car for  _ hours _ , and now Even’s eyes are trailing over his whole body -- beat up Nikes that used to be Jonas’s, sweatpants that he’s pretty sure have a hole in the knees, that damn Jesus shirt that used to be Eskild’s, and he  _ knows  _ his hair is bad because he can see curls. Fuck his friends and fuck his life and fuck this guy.

“Isak, Even,” Eva says. “Even, Isak.”

“Hey,” Even says, his mouth twitching up into a subtle smile, just enough that his eyes start to crinkle at the edges. Isak briefly considers running back home. This is  _ bad _ . 

Isak manages to speak, or so he hopes. “Hi.”

* * *

 

They’re sitting around the fire. Or, they  _ would  _ be sitting around the fire, but Magnus can’t light a fucking match for some reason.

“How is it  _ this  _ hard to start a fire?” Sana asks, sharing an unzipped sleeping bag with Chris, wrapped around their shoulders as they huddle together and the sun sets.

Isak sighs. “Please just take Jonas’s lighter.”

“No,” Magnus says, poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. “This is personal now. This is war.”

“You’re declaring war on a box of matches,” Noora observes. She sounds incredibly disappointed, which is a tone that Isak heard plenty back when they lived together in high school.

“Yes.” Magnus strikes another match against the side of the box, again and again, until it sparks up and dies about a quarter of a second later. Isak groans and places his head in his hands.

“Christ, I’m getting a drink,” Eva says, standing up as she shakes her head at Magnus, at the fire, at the whole situation.

“Can you grab a beer for me?” Isak asks without even raising his head. Eva doesn’t respond, but when she comes back, she bumps a can against his shoulder and he takes it gratefully, saying, “I fucking love you.”

Jonas snorts. “That’s more love than you’ve ever expressed for me and we’ve been friends for twelve years.”

“Right now,” Isak says, taking a sip of the beer, “I fucking hate you.”

He can feel Sana roll her eyes from across the circle. “Don’t be dramatic,” she tells him.

“ _ Me _ ? You’re telling  _ me  _ not to be dramatic? Sana, they literally picked me up and dragged me from my bed at the crack of fucking dawn this morning.”

“It was noon,” Jonas coughs.

“Isak, that’s not healthy,” Vilde chimes in, leaning forward, eyes wide with concern.

“I think I just burned my fingernail off,” Magnus shrieks.

“Can someone hand me a beer?” Chris yells to nobody.

There’s silence for one blissful second, and then Even laughs and Isak jumps. He almost entirely forgot that Even was here. He’s tucked back away from everyone else, half in the quickly falling darkness, a green notebook balanced on his knee and a pen bouncing in his hand. “Sorry,” he says quickly when everyone turns to look at him. “Uh, I can grab my guitar while we wait?”

“Sweet, I’ll get mine too,” Jonas says, standing with Even and flashing him a grin as the two of them head back to the cars. Little conversations erupt around the group -- Sana and Noora immediately start whispering to each other, Mahdi and Chris are bantering back and forth, Vilde is trying to help Magnus, and Eva slides over on the log they’re sitting on and leans in right next to Isak.

“So,” she says, “what do you think of Even?”

“Even?” Isak says nonchalantly. “Yeah, he’s, uh, he’s cool, I guess.”

“He’s fucking  _ hot _ ,” Eva corrects, eyes flashing dangerously. 

Isak squints at her. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” she answers, too quickly, shrugging. “Just wanted to know what you think. Your gay opinion to my bisexual one. Solidarity, you know?”

Isak’s about to say something else, something about how Eva is a fucking  _ terrible  _ liar and he’s always been able to see through her, but Jonas and Even show up with guitars slung over their shoulders and he pipes down.

“What are we singing?” Vilde asks excitedly. She even claps her hands together, Jesus Christ. Isak likes her, but sometimes she’s a little  _ much _ for him to deal with, to be honest.

Jonas pretends to think for a second. Isak can tell he’s pretending, because when he’s  _ really  _ thinking, his entire body stills, but right now, his fingers are adjusting themselves on the neck of the guitar. He knows  _ exactly  _ what he’s about to do, Isak notes.

“Even, play along if you know this one, yeah?” he says, nodding his chin at Even, who nods in response.

And then Jonas starts playing that fucking song. 

Eva laughs at how Isak’s face changes -- he still  _ loves  _ this song and Jonas knows it, and he’s using it to try and get Isak to enjoy himself. Shit.

“What’s this one?” Vilde asks, looking from Jonas to Eva to Even as Even grins and jumps into playing, in perfect time with Jonas. 

“It’s Isak’s favorite from when we were, like, sixteen,” Eva says, bumping her shoulder into Isak and humming. “You know you want to sing.”

Magnus is still sitting on the ground blankly, looking around for answers, and Sana and Noora start to sway. 

Jonas and Even both sing at the same time, starting off quietly. 

“Well, you done done me and you bet I felt it…”

Oh, God. Isak really does love this song. He sighs deeply.

When he jumps in, everybody cheers, Sana smiling with dimples buried deep in her cheeks and Mahdi wiggling in what could maybe be interpreted as dancing, if you squint both eyes.

* * *

 

People start drifting off to bed one by one -- Noora first, and then Mahdi, and Vilde, Jonas and Eva vanishing without saying a word, and then Sana. Chris takes a final swig of beer and grins at Isak before she leaves.

“Oh, shit,” Magnus says, scrambling to his feet as he notices that it’s just himself, Isak, and Even sitting around the still unlit fire. “Uh, I’m going to go see if Mahdi needs help… going to sleep. Isak, there’s a sleeping bag in the trunk of the car for you. Night, guys.” He waves awkwardly, backs up and almost kills himself tripping over a rock on his way back to his and Mahdi’s tent.

Even laughs softly. 

“I should go grab that sleeping bag,” Isak says. He doesn’t move. 

“Yeah, I’ll go with you,” Even offers, standing and sticking out his hand to Isak. He waits there, and Isak can see the glimmer of a smile in the darkness, and he takes Even’s hand against his better judgement, which turns out to be a  _ terrible  _ idea because now he’s thinking about how good Even’s hand feels on his and how good Even’s hands would feel on  _ other  _ parts of him, and he holds on for just a beat too long before he drops it and clears his throat. 

Rest in literal fucking pieces, Isak’s gay ass.

Even follows him to the car and stands just behind him when he opens the trunk, pulling out his phone to help find the sleeping bag, which is… not there?

Yeah, there’s decidedly no sleeping bag here.

“Fuck,” Isak says under his breath. “There’s nothing in here except Jonas’s bowl and a half eaten piece of beef jerky.”

“Only the essentials,” Even says. Isak would usually laugh at that, but honestly, he’s been thrown off by this whole situation and he’s feeling really shitty and he thinks he can feel tears burning in his eyes, and as much as he thinks,  _ no fucking way _ , he can still feel them. 

“I’ll check the backseat,” Even says quietly, leaving Isak alone for a second.

God, it’s so dumb that he’s upset by something as little as a missing sleeping bag, but, honestly, it’s a lot more than that, and Isak sniffles a bit while he gathers himself. Not a single tear falls, though, so jot that down.

Even shuffles around to him softly, like he’s being cautious. “No sleeping bag.” He sounds almost apologetic.

“Ah, shit. I’ll go ask Jonas.” 

The two of them walk together over to Jonas and Eva’s tent, and Isak listens carefully for a second before calling out, “Please don’t be fucking.”

“...Isak?” Jonas asks blearily. Isak lets out a sigh of relief -- thank fuck that it’s his sleepy voice and not his in-the-middle-of-sex voice. The ability to distinguish these two is not something that Isak is proud of.

“Yeah,” he says to the fabric that makes up the side of the tent. “There’s no fucking sleeping bag in the trunk, man.”

The silence is what lets him know that he’s in trouble. “Shit,” Jonas says eventually, “we left it in the room. I’m really sorry, bro.”

Isak takes a few deep breaths, tries to control himself. “Yeah,” he answers, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

* * *

 

Even unzips his sleeping bag as far open as it goes and offers it to Isak sheepishly. 

“We can share this,” he says. The tent is small enough that the two of them are basically on top of each other, and Isak spares a moment to wonder how the two tallest people got the smallest tent, but his friends really aren’t the most logical, so he lets it go. 

“Thanks,” Isak answers quietly. 

He lays down, turning away from Even, trying not to take up too much space. Even’s breathing seems to fill the tent. It’s steady, and Isak waits to see if he can hear the moment where Even falls asleep. It seems like he listens for hours, and it never changes. Neither of them move.

“Isak?” Even whispers at one point, his voice a little hoarse and it goes straight to Isak’s gut. “Are you awake?”

He briefly considers faking sleep, but something in him answers, “Yeah. I don’t really sleep all that much.”

“Sleep is the cousin of death,” Even says. Isak doesn’t even want to ask. Instead, he just rolls over and watches as Even sits up, reaching behind his head to dig something out of the jacket that he’d stuffed under his pillow. “Do you want to smoke?”

“Do I -- what?”

“Weed,” Even says simply. A lighter flicks and Isak can just see Even’s face, all angular in the darkness. He lights up and inhales, a long drag and Isak can see his eyes flutter closed as he takes the smoke into his lungs. “Here,” he says, passing Isak a joint.

Isak takes it from his hand gingerly, making sure that their fingers don’t touch as best as he can, because if he touches Even, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to stop.

“Thanks,” he says, quiet, meant only for Even to hear. 

They smoke there in the tent, and it’s surprisingly well ventilated. Isak shuffles up to lean against the fabric behind him, blanket still covering his legs. He tries not to stare at the way the shadows are drawn down Even’s face, accentuating his cheekbones and his jawline and Isak has  _ morals _ , so he’s definitely not thinking about getting fucked right now. Not at all.

Even shifts so he’s sitting up near Isak, his body slowly relaxing so he presses against Isak from his shoulder to his hip and against his thigh, and Isak almost chokes as he inhales. Even’s warm against him and he pulls up the blanket so it covers both of their legs.

“Frogs,” Even says.

Isak blinks. “What?”

“Your opinion on frogs,” Even clarifies, but, really, it’s not much of a clarification, because Isak is still very fucking confused and he shoots a glance at the joint burning low between his fingers -- maybe he should stop accepting drugs from strangers. 

“Opinion… on… frogs?”

“Yeah. For example, I like frogs in concept, but in actuality, they really freak me out. I think it’s the eyes,” Even says conversationally. Isak stares at him with his mouth gaping open. 

“I… don’t think about frogs that often?” Isak says. He can’t keep the question out of his voice, and he finds himself leaning away from Even to try and see him better.

Even tilts his head and grins at Isak. “But you’re thinking about them now, right?” 

And Isak’s about to answer, it’s just taking him a second because he’s starting to feel the high and also Even’s just really fucking cryptic, when the first drop hits him on the head. He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling of their tent and the second drop falls between his eyebrows, dripping down the bridge of his nose.

“What the fuck?” he whispers to himself, and then all hell breaks loose.

It’s raining,  _ pouring _ , and there’s water fucking everywhere, because, apparently, if a tent has great ventilation for smoking weed, then it also has a fuckton of holes in it and neither of them noticed.

Isak scrambles out of the tent, bogged down by his wet sweatshirt, pushing sopping wet hair out of his and he has no clue how he got this soaked this fast and he can’t even see anything, but he spins around and looks for Even. 

There’s a hand on his arm and Even’s pulling at him, yelling something that he can’t understand over the sound of the rain. 

“What?”

“The van!” Even screams.

The two of them stumble through mud, splashing and tripping and clinging onto each other. Isak crashes into the side of the van and struggles against the door, but it’s locked, it’s fucking  _ locked _ , and Even’s trying the other doors but they’re all locked and then Even’s dragging him to his car and they fall into the backseat, on top of each other and then everything gets so much quieter.

“Christ,” Even laughs. He shakes his head like a dog, flinging more water onto Isak. “That was… something.”

Rain patters against the roof of the car. Isak’s laying on Even’s shoulder and Even’s leg is tangled between his own, the two of them crammed into the backseat of Even’s car, water dripping over everything. 

“Yeah,” Isak breathes. He would be cold, but Even’s keeping him warm, radiating light and heat all around him. 

Even taps on Isak’s thigh -- once, twice, and Isak’s breath catches in his throat. “Should we just sleep here?”

Isak hesitates just a moment too long, trying to decide if it’s worth it to lie, and Even lets his fingers trail on Isak’s leg one more time.

“You can’t sleep, can you?”

“I mean, I probably could,” Isak says quickly. “I just… slept for a really long time last night, so, like --”

“It’s okay,” Even says, cutting off Isak’s rambling. “We can just chill. It’s okay.”

Isak interrupts the sound of rain and Even’s breathing after a while. “What were you saying about frogs?”

“Frogs?” Even asks, and Isak can hear confusion in his voice.

“Uh, yeah?” Isak says. He lifts his head up so he can look at the silhouette of Even’s face, furrowing his brows. “Before our tent fucking collapsed, you were going on a tangent about frogs.”

Even chokes back a laugh. “Oh, yeah. That was me hitting on you.”

“What?”

Even hums in agreement. “Had to get you talking somehow, didn’t I?”

Wind blows the rain sideways against the car and Isak really can’t speak, until he can, and then --

“ _ Frogs _ ? You hit on me by asking me my opinion on  _ frogs _ ?” he asks incredulously.

“It wasn’t my original plan, okay?” Even argues. “I was going to be cute and, like, do something with marshmallows and s'mores around the campfire, but then that got fucked up and the only thing I could think was frogs and weed.”

Isak might die then, because that’s the stupidest, sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him. “That’s fucking ridiculous,” he says.

“You  _ are _ laying on top of me in the dark right now, though, so I guess it worked,” Even points out slyly. 

This boy is going to be the death of him.

* * *

 

It’s the second time that Isak’s been woken up by Magnus in as many mornings. This time, however, it’s Magnus banging on the window of Even’s car, grin stretched wide, his nose pushed up against the glass. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Isak groans. He tries to burrow his face deeper into his pillow, except there’s no pillow and he’s pressed into Even’s chest, in what would probably be a  _ very  _ uncomfortable position if Even’s arm wasn’t wrapped around him and Even’s cheek wasn’t resting against the top of his head. 

“Morning,” Even says, his voice low in his chest and Isak can  _ feel _ it reverberate in his knees. “Is that Magnus?”

“Good morning,” Magnus sings, flinging open the car door. “Noora and Mahdi are making breakfast, except it’s just bread. I’m sure it’s good bread though.”

“I hope you choke on your fucking good bread,” Isak mumbles into Even’s sweatshirt, and Even immediately bursts into laughter.

“Jonas!” Magnus calls, looking offended. “They’re in the car and Isak’s doing death threats again.”

Even’s laugh is soft against him, shaking his chest and Isak says, “Fucking asshole.”

“I’ll take you out for a real breakfast tomorrow morning,” Even says, rubbing his hand over Isak’s shoulder. “At, like, noon, of course.”

“So considerate.”

* * *

 

The entire group is looking a little worse for wear in the morning, Vilde yawning and Chris wrapping an arm around her as everyone makes their way back to the cars, lugging their (entirely intact and dry) tents and sleeping bags to load up. 

“Oh, shit, it worked,” Mahdi says, smiling at Isak as he stands next to Even. 

“What worked?” Even asks.

Mahdi waves a hand. “The plan,” he answers vaguely. He seems to take pity on their confusion, because then he adds, “the one to set you guys up. Have you seriously not figured it out by now?”

Isak’s going to kill his friends.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact the next four fics are going to be wlw and gay as fUCK YALL ARENT EVEN READY
> 
> anyways, love yall, [tumblr](https://lesbovilde.tumblr.com/), the usual


End file.
